Ok, so we last left our heroes as they were about assault the Smith House, and get all their money back from Sandwich.
And yes, I changed the perspective. Whatevs.
The house loomed before them, dark and ominous. A single window was illuminated. Four dark figures fingered their weapons, electric chills running down their spines.
Mike strode forward, shotgun clutched to his barrel chest. He cocked back the slide, and placed another shell inside.
The four walked towards the house in a loose and uneasy formation, faces pinched in nervous spasms. The guns looked like play-things in their hands.
Matt and John swung towards the side gate without a word. Tip-toeing on the hard,wet concrete, dull snores could be heard in form the second story. The back of the house was completely glass, and the sleeping forms of Sandwich and his cohorts were visible. Clothes strewn across the floor, their mammoth forms draped along couches.
Matt glanced at his watch. Two o'clock. The front door opened with a boom, and John fired a round from his sawed-off rifle into the glass. Sandwich's great bulk rose, reaching from something near him. Matt's pistol was leveled at his head, but his finger stalled.
The bat struck him hard in the face, sending a thin spray of blood across the room. Matt went to one knee, and Sandwich raised his club once again. A shotgun roared, and the top half of Sandwich's head was sheared off, vomiting blood over Matt.
John pumped round after round into the two other men in the room.
"Mother fucker. Mother fucker."
At this point, Dave had gone upstairs. He swung his rifle across his view, glancing nervously. A door opened up behind him, and Mahesh emerged, pocket knife in hand. He plunged it into Dave's back as he turned.
Mahesh stepped back, staring at the knife submerged in Dave's flesh. Dave stared back, raising his rifle.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Mahesh whimpered. "Don't do it."
A shotgun blared down stairs, and Dave squeezed the trigger. It passed through Mahesh's throat, and he fell, clutching it. Blood pulsed out and pooled around him. Dave shot three more times, and headed down stairs.
"There's a knife in your back man." Matt said, clutching a black gym bag. John poured gasoline out of a cannister, slathering the walls in the noxious liquid.
"Yeah, well, your face is bleeding."
They ran out of the burning house, covered in blood and victory. Four cars had pulled in front, and many men began to emerge.
"You fuckers screwed me. Theres coke missing!" Razorblade shouted, waving a chrome-plated pistol.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mike yelled back.
"Ain't fucking coke in some of those packages, you dumb fuck. Its fucking flour!"
John fired his rifle, and struck Razorblade in the stomach. The night was illuminated by the flash of gunfire. Matt and Mike dove behind a car, as Dave rolled beneath a low wall. A bullet tore through the flesh of his upper leg. The roar and crackle of the fire filled their ears, and the heat was immense.
Unmoving, John filled the air with slugs. Three men fell before his onslaught, when simultaneous rounds exploded into his hand and chest. He cackled madly, coughing blood.
Someone appeared near their car, and Mike fired the gun, tearing off the upper part of his torso. The corpse dropped a pistol, and it went off with a bang.
"Fuck," Mike said. "In my fucking gut."
Dave limped towards them, firing indiscriminately behind him. The three of them shot them shot their way back to the car, and drove through a hail of bullets. An explosion roared as they turned the corner, sending up a fresh flare into the night.
Sirens blared in the distance, and Dave and Mike bled slowly in the backseat.
"We gotta go get Janet, man," Dave moaned, "we gotta get the fuck out of here."
"Fuck Janet, we need to get to Mexico," Matt yelled, slamming his hands on the wheel.
"Fuck you, get Janet."
Matt looked at the bag of money next to him, then to the gun on his lap, and let out a sigh. Mike laughed, holding a beach towel to his bleeding stomach.
"I know what you're thinking Matt, but you'd never make it alone." Mike said. He let out another laugh that slowly turned into a cough.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
oldsolemnmonkey's journal